


On the Defensive

by junko



Series: Scatter and Howl [48]
Category: Bleach
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-16
Updated: 2016-03-16
Packaged: 2018-05-27 02:35:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,978
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6266161
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/junko/pseuds/junko
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Byakuya confronts his aunt about her involvement in the current Kuchiki clan war; Renji tries to survive an after-meeting drinking 'date' with the captains of the Gotei.</p>
            </blockquote>





	On the Defensive

Byakuya stood as his aunt entered. As usual, she stomped in angrily, full of righteous indignation and an accusation of her own, “Shinobu came to me, begging to be released as heir. In tears! What have you done to the poor boy?”

“How deep is the irony that you wish to shield the boy from a war you instigated,” Byakuya said with disdain and barely controlled anger.

“A war?” Masama sneered. “So soon after the last? Are you shinigami in-fighting again?”

Byakuya let out a slow, measured breath. With the air, he attempted to release the building reiatsu he felt roiling deep inside. “Stop playing the fool, Masama. You began this clan war when you sicced Isoroku on Renji.”

She opened her mouth, but wisely closed it. Delicate silver eyebrows knit together as anger gave way to confusion… or an approximation of it. “Did you say clan war?”

Byakuya tried to decide if she faked the surprise in her voice, as the note of concern seemed genuine. He knew his aunt to be capable of many terrible things, but had she begun this fight intentionally? 

Suddenly, he was less certain. 

Yet, even if the consequences of her plans were unforeseen, they were still at the root of the troubles. “Yes,” Byakuya said, gesturing for her to take a seat at the kotatsu. “Last night we seized Yakimura’s theater properties in retaliation for their attempted kidnapping of our unseated officer. The operation should have been bloodless, but, alas, it was not.”

She had been lowering herself to the floor slowly and carefully, but at Byakuya’s words she seemed to fall the last several inches. Silks and breath made a ‘whumph.’ Her face was pale and her voice shook. “Kuchiki are killing Kuchiki? Is that why Shinobu is so wrecked?”

Her horror made Byakuya angry all over again. “Don’t look at me like that, Masama,” he warned. “When it was your man who provoked Yakimura.”

“My man?”

“Isoroku,” Byakuya said, barely managing to contain a spit of anger. It was hard for Byakuya to understand what he’d ever seen in Isoroku… but then he remembered that it was really a stage character he had fallen for. Still, he felt so very foolish to have ever been taken in. The tea bowl on the tabletop rattled before he could subdue his reiatsu. “He’s most certainly behind this. He was in Yakimura’s camp. After his disgrace here, Isoroku would be well motivated to cause us more trouble, and he has. Undoubtedly, he and Yakimura intended to split the ransom money.”

“But I paid his debts!” Masama gasped, and then, realizing what she’d admitted to, quickly covered her mouth.

“And I, his criminal fines,” Byakuya sighed, not even bothering to act surprised at her confession. “He should want for nothing, and yet his hands still grasp greedily at Kuchiki pursestrings.” Byakuya leveled his gaze at his aunt, “Tell me the truth, Masama. Did you pay him to start more trouble for us? Did you whisper in his ear?”

“No!” Masama gasped, “This is the first I’ve heard of this kidnapping business. I swear it on my brother’s grave.”

She could hardly have picked an oath more infuriating. After all, Byakuya had made promises upon that very same grave, and he’d had to choose between keeping them and stopping Rukia’s execution. 

“No such oaths necessary,” he managed through clenched teeth. “I will take you at your word.” Besides, if Masama had been a part of the kidnapping, Byakuya was fairly certain she would have known the true identity of Kaminari Yagi and leveraged it to make things even more complicated for Byakuya.

She was also a better strategist than this. 

She would’ve considered the fact that, even from the Maggot’s Nest, Byakuya might have the resources to thwart the kidnapping, and would most certainly come down hard on such an attempt. 

Masama wouldn’t go to war with him, unless she could win.

“If you’re not behind this,” Byakuya wondered aloud, “then why would Yakimura risk my wrath? Surely, he must have realized that reprisals would be swift and merciless. He’s a theater owner, not a soldier. He has no army, nor, I presume, the resources to fund one. And what would he do, even if he, somehow, miraculously defeated me? The clan would never stand for a head without the Kuchiki name.”

“There is one other,” Masama reminded Byakuya. “If you recall, Hirako’s father still has our name.”

Hiroko’s father, who had just as much, if not more reason to be angry with Byakuya, given Hiroko’s own kidnapping scare… and the fact that Byakuya pushed through Hiroko’s acceptance to Academy, over the father’s vehement protests. For all Byakuya knew, the father had other grudges--it wasn’t impossible to imagine he might have been angry that Masama had originally matched Hiroko to their Third Seat, effectively using her status to gain a spy. Yes, the more he considered it, the more Byakuya could imagine a lot of reasons for the man to be… ambitious, covetous of the clan head’s power and stature.

And, anyone with the Kuchiki name would have bodyguards of their own.

A private army.

Had he and Yakimura colluded from the start? If not, would they ally now? Byakuya didn’t want to start seeing conspiracies everywhere. He shook his head to try to dispel his rising unease. “Despite our differences, Hiroko is well placed. The father may not approve of her Academy training, but he can’t quibble about her standing in our family. She will inherit as much as any wife.”

Masama gave Byakuya a decidedly sour expression.

Right. Of course, that wasn’t enough. 

#

Just walking in the door of the ill-fated inn proved difficult for Renji. The white silk of the haori caught on something--a nail or a splinter, perhaps?--in the doorway. Renji came up short the second he felt the tug, terrified of ripping Byakuya’s coat. Twisting awkwardly, he carefully unhooked the snag with clumsy fingers.

The innkeeper rushed over to help. “My apologies, captain-sir, let me help…” but his voice trailed off as he recognized Renji. 

Renji remembered the guy, as well. They’d had an unfortunate run-in outside, when Renji had used the side of the building as a toilet. But that hadn’t actually been the most embarrassing part, believe it or not. The part that made Renji’s face flush with heat was the fact that his hakama had been in tatters. 

The innkeeper had known exactly why.

“Oh…you’re a captain…? ” The innkeeper’s eyes went wide when he noticed the haori. Small, but wiry, the innkeeper had a pate as smooth and shiny as Ikkaku’s. He glanced back at where the other captains waited in a restless clot as tables were pushed together by sleepy looking teenagers. The innkeeper seemed to be scanning the faces for Byakuya. “That is, I’d thought….”

“Yeah, well, don’t,” Renji said, finally managing to loosen the silk. “Don’t think anything about it, because none of it was any of your business to begin with.”

_Except for the fact that is was kind of ‘business,’ wasn’t it? Since you took Byakuya’s money to look the other way…_ but Renji swallowed that thought angrily and stomped away. 

Cripes, why did it have to be this inn of all the inns in the Seireitei?

Renji glared at the fancy chrome Human World style bar in the center of the otherwise traditional akachōchin, remembering how much he’d initially liked the eclectic mix of this place. 

Captain Hirako seemed to notice the speakers tucked into the eaves of the raftered ceiling, and asked if there was any chance they had ‘decent’ music, like some Miles Davis or Chet Baker. One of the teenage girls' heads popped up. She seemed to have a passing knowledge of whatever kind of music Hirako was into, and excitedly ran off to get her ‘albums.’

Renji settled himself on one of the tall stools at the bar, his back to the activity. He didn’t want to accidentally catch the eye of the innkeeper, but, as it happened, his new position gave him a direct line of sight to the back corridor that led to Lady Yoruichi’s private little love nest.

“Shit,” he muttered to himself, and dropped his head to stare miserably at the polished surface of the bar. A very angry looking reflection glowered back at him. He shook his head. So much about this whole thing was so fucked up.

A sweaty bottle of “Outlawed!” beer clinked down on the bar next to his elbow. Renji glanced up to see Soi Fon standing beside him, her elbow leaned against the bar, swigging back a long swallow from the Shihōin label with its signature image of an arched-back black cat silhouette and the word “Outlawed!” stamped in an exuberant font over it. 

“How is your brother?” she asked with a practiced unguardedness, that was anything but.

Renji twisted the bottle top off the beer and took a sip before answering. “Seichi? Ask Kenpachi. He’s my brother’s keeper.”

“You don’t socialize?” 

Renji gave her a glance, trying to gauge what she was after. “Not really. No.”

He’d hoped that his monosyllabic responses might deter Soi Fon, but she continued: “Does Byakuya not like Seichi?

Renji set down the beer with a thunk and turned to give Soi Fon a long, measuring look. If her intention was to piss him off, it was working. “What do you think? What, you think maybe they have more in common now that Byakuya’s done hard time? Yeah, it’d be such fun for them to swap prison rape stories!”

Only after every eye in the room turned to stare did Renji realize just how angrily and loudly that had come out. Conversations stalled. People turned to look, asking each other if they’d heard what they thought they’d heard.

The growing uncomfortable silence was broken by the innkeeper who cleared his throat to say, “Your tables are ready, captains.”

Grabbing his beer, Renji pushed off the barstool. Briefly, he wondered where to sit, but all the captains seemed to be taking spots that corresponded to where they normally stood during the meetings. Seeing the empty spot waiting for him, Renji settled between Unohana and Kyōraku. 

At least with the barkeep and his children busily taking orders and bringing out bottles, the conversation level returned to normal. A few captains still shot Renji odd looks. Captain Komamura, in particular. Leaning across the low table, Komamura’s amber, wolfish eyes locked on Renji’s. He felt a little like a deer, being stalked, until Komamura’s smooth baritone gently said, “I couldn’t help but overhear. Surely, you’re not being serious. Is Captain Kuchiki actually imprisoned?”

“Not any more,” Renji noted, with a little look in Soi Fon’s direction. “Now he’s back where he should’ve been all along: under house arrest. But, yeah, he was sentenced to three weeks in the Maggot’s Nest.”

Captain Muguruma paused mid-swig of his beer. Setting it down, he frowned. “The Maggot’s Nest? Are you shitting me?”

Renji gave him the ‘I wish’ look.

“Okay, I’m sorry, but that seems a little… what the fuck,” Muguruma said. “I mean, yeah, house arrest is maybe too cushy when you’re a prince or whatever, but I could have kept him locked up. We’ve got some pretty sparse accommodations at the Ninth that would have worked just fine for a couple of weeks.”

“Old Man Yama was surprisingly difficult to negotiate with,” Kyōraku said around a sip of his beer. “For whatever reason, he felt it important to make an example of young Mr. Byakuya.”

“An example? An example of what, exactly?” Muguruma spat. “Sending a guy to the Maggot’s Nest for sleeping around is an example of crazy pants justice and not a lot else.”

“Here, here,” said Ōtoribashi from the other end of the table with a lift of his glass.

As if following some personal tradition, Captain Hirako lifted his bottle to join the toast. Renji realized, of course, that if any group had a reason to drink to the idea of extreme, nonsensical punishment it would be the Vizards. 

Renji lifted his glass in solidarity, thinking of not only this, but Rukia as well. “Truth.”

Kyōraku joined them. When Renji gave him a curious look, Kyōraku laughed it off with, “Any excuse to drink!”

Soi Fon glared at the Shihōin label, and began angrily peeling it off. 

Beside him, Renji heard Unohana sigh, “So many old wounds.”

“Speaking of wounds,” Kenpachi said, “Anybody know what’s happening to Kurosaki?”

“He’s out of his coma,” Ukitake said cheerfully from the end of the table, “Isn’t that right, Acting-Captain Abarai?”

“Yeah,” Renji agreed. He might have said more, but the innkeeper’s family brought out several long platters full of pan-fried gyoza and he was distracted by the smells of garlic and pork. 

“So...” Kenpachi prompted, “When’s he going to get better? I’ve got a rematch to schedule.”

Renji looked down the table at Ukitake, who shrugged helplessly. So, Renji said, “I don’t know that he’s going to get better, sir. Urahara made it sound kind of permanent.”

“Well, that’s bullshit,” Kenpachi announced, grabbing several dumplings from the tray with his hands and plopping them into his mouth. “And a fucking waste.” Kenpachi glanced briefly at Unohana, but didn’t hold her gaze when he muttered: “Someone ought to fix him.”

“Give Kisuke some time,” Ōtoribashi said softly. “If there’s a way, he’ll devise it.”

Kurotsuchi ‘harrumphed’ so loudly that it almost sounded as if he were choking on a dumpling.

Captain Hitsugaya rolled his eyes. “Can we talk about actual issues? Captain Kyōraku, I heard there was a fire in the neighborhood around your division. Was anyone hurt?”

“I’m afraid some of those old theaters are death traps. Suicidal, even,” Kyōraku said, and then let out a little huff of a laugh, like he’d found what he’d said ironic or amusing. When Ukitake shot him a chiding glance, he cleared his throat. “Yes, a few deaths were reported.”

“What started it?” Hitsugaya asked.

“Misjudged kidō, apparently,” Kyōraku said, taking another long pull of his beer, sounding disinterested. 

“Was it part of the show?” Hitsugaya wondered. “Some special effect gone wrong?”

“No,” Kyoraku said, tipping his hat as though to shade his face, “It was in defense.”

Muguruma wiped dumpling grease from his chin. “Defense? In defense of what?”

“In defense of itself. In defense from an attack,” Kyōraku said. Under the shadow of his hat, a sharp eye gleamed. And seemed to be looking directly at Renji, when he added, “From Kuchiki clan soldiers.”

#

Taking his leave of aunt Masama, Byakuya dressed in his uniform--minus the haori, of course--and brought Senbonzakura to an interior practice yard. He was fairly sure that the stipulations of house arrest would allow him access to the Division’s dojo, but he preferred the quiet private space at any rate. 

Besides, he needed to think.

Had he fallen into a clan war or been manipulated into one?

Going through basic zanjutsu forms as warm-up, Byakuya decided it didn’t much matter. What mattered now was his plan going forward. If it was true that Yakimura had allied with Kuchiki, then he must be prepared for retaliation. His weakest point was that he had no idea who these men were, how they might behave. 

He’d hoped for reasonable men. Ones who might put aside pride for sensibility--who would apologize, back off… let it go.

But these were Kuchiki.

Byakuya could almost hear his grandfather’s voice in the whistle of the blade, as it cut through air: _You were too weak. Too soft-hearted, like your father. You should have had Yakimura killed and nailed his head to the wall._

There was, Byakuya mused, still time for that. 

Though he was trapped here, inside these walls, Senbonzakura could travel some distance without him.

But should he not first try for peace? His grandfather’s scolding tugged at his consciousness, but so, too, did his father’s words: _you must be your own man. At the end of the day, this is all the comfort you will have: the knowledge of your own heart_.

So he must find a way to be both fair and merciless.

It was who he was.

#

After Kyōraku dropped that little information bomb, Renji felt all the eyes turn to him again. The little detour to the burned building suddenly made a whole lot of sense… and yet didn’t. What the hell was wrong with these people that they couldn’t just ask what they wanted to know--straightforwardly, without all this bullshit cat-and-mouse playing? 

The murmurs around the table were starting to rise in intensity, so Renji decided to wade in.

“Yeah, there’s a Kuchiki clan war brewing,” Renji said, loud and clear. Wrapping his hands around the beer bottle on the table in front of him, he stared at it and pretended he was giving a report to the head captain’s office. “I guess I didn’t know it’d gone hot, but that’s because it has nothing to do with the Sixth--except tangentially. The only parts I know is that some relation or other decided that when Byakuya was banged up, it was a good time to take advantage. This relative took hostage one of our unseated, but surrendered them when our Tenth Seat arrived on the scene. After that… well, I got nothing, because that’s Kuchiki business and I don’t get updates from the clan head, unless he decides to give ‘em to me.”

“I find that hard to believe,” Soi Fon snapped. “You two are _very close_ , after all.”

“Ho, ho! Now, now, is that fair?” Kyōraku chuckled. “Does Mr. Byakuya seem like the sort for loose pillow talk?”

“I… really… don’t want to know,” Captain Hitsugaya piped up, pointing a finger at Renji who’d opened his mouth, even though he wasn’t sure what he’d planned to say. “Seriously, can we not talk about that? What’s important is whether or not there’s going to be fighting the streets. Do I have Kuchiki properties in my neighborhood? Do we defend them?”

“Ah, let ‘em fight it out,” Kenpachi said. “They’re fucking civilians. What are they going to do?”

“Start fires?” Hitsugaya pointed out sarcastically. “Maybe burn down the Seireitei?” 

“And they do have weapons,” Ukitake pointed out. “Noble houses, like the Kuchiki, often employ guards, whom they arm. Dead steel, but no less sharp.”

“Poison gas,” Kurotsuchi said simply, as he skewered a dumpling with his extra long fingernail and lifted it to his mouth. Tongue slithered out and curled up to pull it inside, which everyone watched in a kind of fascinated horror.

There was a brief moment of silence, and then Kyōraku tucked his hands in his sleeves and ducked his head, “Yes, well, that’s an excellent final solution, but in the meantime I’m inclined to side with the Kenpachi on this one. Let them fight it out. I have faith that Mr. Byakuya will swiftly tidy up his family’s mess.”

“What about your people?” Muguruma asked. “Kuchiki invaded your territory. Like Hitsugaya says, don’t they expect you to defend them?”

“I know civilians think we’re magical, but they can hardly expect me to go back in time and stop a fire,” Kyōraku chuckled. “They will expect me to pay for reconstruction, which I will bill to the Kuchiki. I will see to the injured and help bury the dead, and I will do whatever I can to make them feel safe. But, they live in the Seireitei, Mr. Kensei. They know the risks well enough.”

“Eh, I don’t like it,” Muguruma said. “It’s the Ninth’s responsibility to keep the peace, but we only have the authority to deal with shinigami, not civilians. I’m going to ask the Head Captain for an edict to allow me and my people to arrest anyone inside the city walls brandishing a naked blade not wearing a shinigami uniform.”

“Count the Second in on that,” Soi Fon said. “I’ll put extra people on the streets, as well.”

“Ninja and the militia prowling the streets together,” Kyōraku clapped his hands. “I couldn’t feel safer! You?”

There was general agreement around the table, except from Kenpachi, who just grunted and muttered something about how only idiots would fuck around with the Eleventh.

“If we all have the power to arrest, I guess I’m okay with that,” Hitsugaya said. “I’d still like a list of Kuchiki properties inside the city walls. I had no idea they owned anything inside the Seireitei beyond that estate and its grounds.”

Renji took that as his cue to say, “I’ll see what I can do, sir.”

“Don’t bother. It can all be found on public record,” Kurotsuchi said. His jaundiced eye seemed to hone in on Renji with a certain amount of malice. “My researchers can provide all the captains a complete list of Kuchiki properties in their neighborhoods within the hour.”

“Really?” Kyōraku sounded genuinely surprised and a little stunned by the offer.

“Yes,” Kurotsuchi sneered. “It would be my pleasure.”

“Well, well, that seems to be all the matters solved,” Kyōraku blustered happily. “Now, let’s get to serious business! Drink!”

Renji relaxed at Kyōraku’s words. That wasn’t so bad after all, he thought.

Helping himself to the last of the dumplings, Renji took a long pull on his beer. He glanced down the table. Captains Ōtoribashi and Hirako started up some private conversation between them. Komamura attempted to take surreptitious laps from his beer. Muguruma leaned around Kenpachi to grill Ukitake about what he knew about the training of noble bodyguards. Kenpachi, meanwhile, had his arms crossed in front of his massive chest, seemed to be glaring at Unohana, who, from what Renji could tell, was smiling beatifically at her beer bottle.

On his side, Soi Fon continued to look longingly at the cat silhouette and Hitsugaya seemed to be actively fending off conversational salvos from Kurotsuchi. That gave Renji no choice but to turn to Kyōraku and say, “I had no idea about the fire, really, sir.”

“Mmm?” Kyōraku seemed to be coming up out of a reverie of his own. He laughed off Renji’s concern, “Don’t worry yourself over it, my dear boy. At any rate, I knew from your reaction earlier that you had nothing to do with it, which is why I’m far less angry with Mr. Byakuya than I could have been,” he lifted a shoulder in a languid shrug. “If there was no Gotei involvement, then this was nothing more than amateur hour.”

Renji nodded thoughtfully. “Somebody used kidō. Someone wasn’t an amateur.”

“Actually, they could have been,” Ukitake said from his end of the table. “As I was telling Kensei, a lot of nobles employ Academy drop-outs. It’s not impossible to imagine that some of them have just enough power to make an erratic, weak hadō thirty-…” Ukitake’s eyes widened, “Oh! No offense, Renji!”

He was about to say ‘none taken’ when Kenpachi growled. “These little shitheads could have kidō? That’s fucking great.”

Renji was having a hard time imagining a bunch of the Kuchiki bodyguards marauding through the streets firing off kidō, so he said, “The captain of the Kuchiki guard is a sensible, decent woman. I don’t think she’d let her people go off all half-cocked like that, sir.”

“Yes,” Unohana said, “Her people stayed with my firefighters until the last ember was extinguished. They assisted with the wounded until our healers arrived.”

Renji was both surprised, and yet not, to hear this. 

More beer and dumplings arrived to much cheering. Renji started to wonder when it would be okay to excuse himself. He wasn’t really going to be expected to drink himself into a stupor at this hour, was he?

Kyōraku nudged another beer in Renji’s direction with his fingertip. Leaning in, he smiled slyly and said, “Consider it your hazing…”

**Author's Note:**

> I have probably recently neglected to thank Josey (cestus) for her continued help with this massive, on-going series, and that's a crime. She's always ready to typo and help me plot bunny as well as being MUCH FASTER THAN I AM at remembering what happened in previous chapters and where to find the reference I'm looking for. Best beta reader ever (and a very good friend.)


End file.
